


Do you love me?

by saey-bae (JourneysBeginning)



Series: Mysme Oneshots [3]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 | Luciel Choi's Real Name, Angst, F/M, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Angst, Reader-Insert, This was a lot of fun to write, angst week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JourneysBeginning/pseuds/saey-bae
Summary: A series of angsty one-shots prompted by phrases found on Tumblr featuring Jihyun, Jumin, and Saeyoung.***And you forget his heart belongs to another until he says, “I’m sorry, Y/N,” so quietly that you think it might have been your imagination.***“Love me?” you snapped, your voice choking up. “You’ve never loved anyone, how would you know if you were in love?”***“Do you want to hear the truth or do you want to hear what you want?”***





	1. Jihyun + Hold You

“V?”

You watch as Jihyun lowers himself onto a bench, his believer hood slipping off to reveal a weary looking face. Shadows play on the planes of his face in the slip of the night, though there’s no mistaking the circles beneath his eyes, the colour dark enough to contrast starkly against his pasty skin.

He doesn’t reply, nor does he say a word as you take a seat next to him; instead, his gaze is focused on the bright moon overhanging the garden and, somehow, he sits perfectly still. So still that, although the cool night breeze rustles his hair, rustles the leaves, rustles the flowers in Ray’s beloved garden, the world seems to pause in its rotation and time seems to trickle to a stop.

Or maybe it seems that way because your eyes are caught on his profile, his unmoving face outlined in pale moonlight, and they don’t stray.

“Jihyun?” Your mouth curves around his name like a caress. When his eyes fall on you, your hand reaches out to him hesitantly, but he only lowers his head, teal hair curtaining around his face. 

“Please don’t, Y/N.”

Your hand falls and the words on the tip of your tongue don’t make it quite past your lips as he shifts, turning away from you. Something around your ribcage throbs with a dull ache.

The silence lingering between the two of you hangs thickly, heavily, forming an invisible wall that you have no way of climbing over. 

“You can’t do anything for me,” he says quietly, almost chidingly. When he lifts his head, you catch the way his mouth curls up in a derisive smile. It’s like the glint of a knife. “I need to fix Rika… I started this.”

“I’m here to help you.” Your hands furl in your lap, nails biting into the soft flesh of your palms. “I’m here so you can rely on me. Isn’t that the point of having friends, Jihyun?”

“No, I need to handle this. This is my fault. I love her, I should be the one to care for her.” But his eyes shimmer and he looks away once more, turning until his back faces you. “I’ll fix this mess myself… I don’t need you to involve yourself anymore than you have, Y/N.”

At his words, your eyes shimmer as well, unable to deny the heat that burns at your eyelids. You close them tightly, willing yourself not to make a sound you’d regret. He loves Rika and he always will; you can’t change that.

But you’re selfish enough to love him.

Blindly, you lean forward and grasp for him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you press your face to his back.

“ **Let me hold you** ,” you whisper with a foolish desperation that bleeds through your words and breaks your voice. He stiffens beneath you, but you don’t let go. “ **I’ll fix it**.”

For the longest moment, all you can hear are the steady beats of his heart and the thrumming of your own; you can breathe in the scent of him– one that surrounds you completely, even in the fragrant garden; you can feel the warm of his body seep through the layers of clothing between the two of you. 

Your chest swells with a completeness that you had never experienced, a love so deep it aches sweetly; the man you hold deserves so much more than the world has given him, and you wish you could be the one to give him that happiness what he deserves. 

All you want to do is kiss away his pain, lift the heavy burdens from his shoulders, erase the sadness from the depths of his eyes. His heart of gold is of _pure gold_ – too soft, yet too heavy.

And you forget his heart belongs to another until he says, “I’m sorry, Y/N,” so quietly that you think it might have been your imagination.   
  
But then the soft, silky cloth of the robe leaves your hands and you don’t have to grasp blindly anymore because he’s left your arms. 

And time trickles to a stop once more as you hear his receding footsteps.


	2. Saeyoung + You Did This

Saeyoung’s been on the receiving end of an accusing finger before– he’s seen the flashes of anger before the blow comes, he’s felt the sting of a slap, he’s heard the crack of skin against skin.

But he’d never expect you to be the one dealing the blow, and he can only touch his throbbing cheek gingerly as he looks at you. Apparently, he’s not the only one who’s surprised.

“Y/N, listen… you’re overreacting. It was no big deal.” His words are quiet, lackluster, as he tries to reach out for you. He _expects_ you to bat his hand away, but when you do, the rejection has him biting the inside of his cheek.

If it had been any other situation, he would reach out to brush away the tears rolling down your cheeks; he would hold you close and whisper tender nothings in your ear as you yielded to him, told him how much you loved and treasured him; he would make sure you felt protected from what hurt you.

Now, he can only watch as you fall apart in his hands.

“No big deal?” Your voice is choked, strangled syllables coming out in awkward hiccupped phrasing. The shaky sob that falls from your lips is quiet, yet far too loud in the empty bunker. “What’s a big deal to you, then?”  

The hacker doesn’t respond, watching you in silence as the lump in his throat grows. The lipstick mark on his collar, a mark made by another, burns against his chest like a brand.

“Was I not enough for you?” Your voice climbs in volume, breaks. “What did she give you that I couldn’t? Didn’t I love you enough?“

So many questions. He wants to reassure you like he always has, protect you from what hurts you, but he can only watch in silence as your burning eyes search his, desperate for an answer he can’t give.

“Did… you not love me enough?”

“C'mon, don’t be stupid, Y/N.” He reaches out for you again, but you back away with the caution of a frightened animal.

“Did you ever love me at all?” Saeyoung’s doing his best to avoid your eyes. Your whispers are small, yet they dismantle his façade more quickly than he can put himself back together. “Were those missions lies to get out of the house?”

“You’re being ridiculous now,” he snaps as firmly as he can manage. “Do you even hear yourself?”

” _Then stop evading my questions and tell me!_ “ Your voice is hoarse, hurt. He can hear the way you’re pleading to him, trying to grasp for straws, trying to salvage what’s been lost. “Tell me the truth!”

“Do you want to hear the truth or do you want to hear what you want?”

The silence that follows is deafening, and the living room grows so still.

_I’m sorry,_ he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he adds more quietly, ” **You did this…** You knew what you were getting into when you decided to get involved with me. Crying now doesn’t change anything.“

” _I hate you._ “

His eyes close and he listens as the front door of the bunker closes, and only then does he let his shoulders fall. And he sobs quietly, willing for the ache in his heart to leave.

He only ever wants to protect you from himself and his life because he loves you more than anything.


	3. Saeyoung + Don't Leave

_Panic._

You saw it in Saeyoung’s eyes when he caught sight of you looking at one of his throwaway phones; you felt it when he grabbed your arms, short nails digging into the sleeves of your shirt; you heard it when he said to you very, very carefully,

“I swear, it was a one time thing. A mistake.”

He said _it_ , as if _it_ wasn’t a beautiful, smiling young woman asking him to spend the night with her again. As if it wasn’t human. He said it with such vehemence that your heart gave a jolt, and you nearly forgot about your anger.

You could almost ignore the smoldering heat.

And as the feeble whispers of almost died away, your gaze slowly trailed up to meet his, desperate to drink in the solace in his eyes. You knew they would tell you what you wanted to hear – _that he loved you, that there was no one else he could ever love_ – but the hungry red mark on his neck caught your eye, and the low simmer of heat in the pit of your stomach flared.

Cutting words surfaced, thick and heavy, too heavy to say aloud. _How dare you? How dare you try to pacify me with meaningless words? How can you say you love me every day when you’ve spent nights in another’s arms?_

But then your eyes prickled and you let out a sob, and the flames diminished to smoke and ashes.

“Please don’t cry… I’m sorry.” Familiar arms closed around you, drawing you in close. You cried harder, knowing someone else knew the comfort of these arms. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”

 _Has she heard these words from his lips, too?_ You gulped in air, trying to breathe between the shaky exhales. “How many times, Saeyoung?”

“Y/N, it doesn’t matter anymore. I swear, I’m only in love with you.”

_“How many times?”_

“Three. They meant nothing, I swear… Just… they were moments I needed…”

_Needed comfort from another woman?_

“I needed a moment’s reprieve,” he whispered.

You trembled.

_But it was only three times. Don’t you remember how much he’s done for you, how much he truly loves you?_

“Let go of me, Saeyoung. _Please_.” Your voice came out too weakly, too unsteadily. “I can’t do this. I can’t love you… I don’t.”

“You’re lying, Y/N. Don’t do this.” When you tried to pull away, his arms only tightened around you. “Please don’t do this, Y/N– don’t throw away what we have because I made a stupid mistake.”

“Let me go.” You thought you had no more tears left to cry, but a few traitorous drops rolled down your cheeks. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this! You wouldn’t have cheated on me!”

“ **I refuse to leave you alone!** ” He drew away just enough to look down at you, golden eyes shimmering, jaw clenched tight. “What can I do to make you believe that I still love you? I’ll do it, Y/N. Anything. I can’t let you go, not like this.”

_Only three times._

“Saeyoung, please…”

“ _Anything_ , Y/N. I love you… I love you to the moon and back. Just tell me.”

_You’re the one in his arms now, not her. You._

“I-I…” You fumbled for words, wishing your vocabulary was large enough to express the bitterness in your mouth and the throbbing in your head and the aching in your heart.

“I love you,” Saeyoung whispered, touching his forehead to yours. His voice was hoarse, thick. “Stay with me. Please.”

 _He loves you most_ , said the little voice. _She means nothing._

“You broke my heart already, Saeyoung. How can I ever trust you again?”

“I’ll be with you always.” His gaze searched yours, darting back and forth as if he was reading something within your features. “I promise. I’d promise you the world and all the stars in the sky if it meant you’d stay.”

“But…”

“You own my heart. You and you only. _Please?_ ”

For a long moment, you could only search his face in return. Somehow you knew that, like him, you were reading something that wasn’t truly there.

“Okay,” you whispered, and closed your eyes as the tip of his nose brushed yours, letting him heal your wounds with his touch even as your chest constricted and your palms sweat.

Because even though his loving touch traced your skin reverently, you were losing control… you were panicking as you realized you knew nothing about this new Saeyoung; this Saeyoung, who would cheat on you willingly; this Saeyoung, who apologized, but never promised to stay true to you in the future; this Saeyoung, whose touch felt foreign and strange.

But you closed your eyes and let his hands continue because he loved you, you knew he did. And you loved him, too.


	4. Jumin + I'll Be Alright

“I didn’t know you had a stash of hard liquor.“

“Only for the times that call for it.” Jumin settles on the couch next to you and pours you a glass of scotch. His eyes follow the lift of your arm, the shift of your throat as you down the amber liquid with a wince. You reach for the bottle again and he doesn’t stop you.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

You knock back glass after glass, and only after the coldness in your eyes melts does he place a hand on your forearm, his fingers encircling your arm gently, but firmly. Your gaze lifts to meet his, and he pulls a tight smile.

“You’ll get alcohol poisoning if you keep going at that rate.”

“Does it matter?”

A sharp tug of pain seizes his lungs and, for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. You’ve stolen his oxygen, you’ve stolen his air. But then Jumin’s gaze meet yours and he sees the tears welling in your puffy eyes, already red from endless tears shed prior, and he exhales.

“Of course it matters. Don’t say that.” With some gentle coaxing, he frees the bottle and empty shot glass from your hand and sets them aside. “Jihyun’s worried about you as it is, Y/N.”

“Worried about me? You’re kidding, right?” You let out a derisive laugh. “Actually, that’s a pretty good one, Jumin.”

“Y/N…”

“Out of all of the members of the RFA, I expected you to be the most honest with me, y'know? But I guess everyone covers for their best friend– even you.”

“I’m not lying, Y/N; I wouldn’t lie to you,” he says firmly, defensively. Perhaps he says it with too much conviction; the harshness of his tone sparks a flame. “There’s nothing to gain from it.”

“Then you’re sorely misinformed! Jihyun’s too busy worrying about Rika. _Poor Rika_ , the only victim in her life. _Poor Rika_ , who takes up all his time. _Poor Rika_ , who hasn’t committed a single misdeed in her entire fucking life, and _Y/N, you should be more understanding_.”

Jumin falls silent as he reaches out for your shaking fists, the ones pressed so tightly to your lap that he has to pry. He unravels the tight curl of your fingers to reveal your red palms, decorated with angry crescents.

And just like that, the roaring flames lose their heat.

“Poor Rika, who means more than anything to him.” Your whisper hangs between the two of you, a double-edged sword he isn’t willing to reach out for.

“He called me to come find you,” he says after a long moment, his eyes still fixed on your palms. His thumbs caress the marks before he lets go. “He had been looking for you for twenty minutes in the heavy rain and he didn’t catch sight of you, so he called. I was already driving around town when you called for me to come pick you up.”

You don’t say a word. Jumin looks up just in time to see a tear roll down your cheek, and he doesn’t quite know what to say either. In all his twenty-seven years, he’s only ever been taught to run a corporation, not to deal with emotions. He doesn’t know how to delegate emotions.

So he says what he’s heard from snippets of TV shows and movies, but surprises even himself at the tenderness of his words.

“ **Come here, it’ll be alright.** ”

And, although the words taste foreign in his mouth, he would say them again and again, if that meant you’d dive into his arms every time.

Jumin’s arms close around you tentatively, though his hold strengthens when he feels the warmth of you against him. You’re dressed in his night clothes –drier than the ones you came in– and you smell of his shampoo and lotion, and he can’t stop himself from burying his face in your hair. Something about the two of you sharing the same scent has his heart tugging in an entirely different way.

But his heart is tearing at the seams because you’re sobbing into his neck, making the sounds of a wounded animal, and he wishes he could take away your pain.

He knows he can’t –he knows the only one who can is Jihyun– but he wishes. He wishes he could, but the only thing he can do is hold you.

It takes you a long while before you finally fall still. You don’t move from his arms and he doesn’t force you.

You ask, “Should I call him now? He must be really worried…”

And he says, “Perhaps.”

“Do you think we’ll be okay?”

“Of course.”

“Sometimes I just feel… so stupid for fighting with him. He’s always been here for me.”

“It happens to the best of us. We all get irritated and lose our tempers from time to time.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No, of course not.”

A long silence follows– a thick, comforting silence that wraps around the two of you like a well-worn blanket. And for a moment, he can pretend the two of you are more than friends comforting one another, but then you say,

“I love him so much, Jumin… so much it hurts.”

And he says, “I know.”


	5. Jumin + Fix It

“Y/N? _Where are you?_ ” 

You knew your husband was going to burst into the room within approximately two minutes. You knew he would see your packed bags sitting on the foot of the bed, and his eyes would go cold and he would persuade you not to leave because that was what he was good at. You knew, so you were prepared.

The bedroom door flung open within the predicted time frame, and there Jumin stood. His eyes darted around the room, lingered on the raided closet and your luggage as if they held some kind of answer as to why you had packed away all your belongings. Then, they lifted and met yours.

“I’m leaving.” Your words were spoken softly, spoken them in the same tone of _I love you_ or _You mean the world to me_. It wasn’t long ago that you would have said those two phrases in lieu of this one, after all.

“Why?” 

“Because you’ve married the wrong person,” you said evenly, willing your voice to stay steady. If you showed any sign of weakness, he’d tug at the loose thread, pulling until you unraveled in his palm– everything you’d spend time and care weaving would be threads twisted around his fingers. “ You’ve married the wrong obsession.”

For a brief moment, Jumin’s face twisted; however, it smoothed out into an expressionless mask before you could read into the furrow of his brow and the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t understand, Y/N; I believe our partnership and marriage have been successful thus far.” 

“ _Partnership_ ,” you said, tasting sour acidity on your tongue. _Was everything business to him?_ “It hasn’t been a partnership for a while now, if you ask me.” 

“What are you talking about?” Mild irritation coloured his tone. In four long strides, he had closed the space between the two of you. “I’d appreciate it you spoke with less ambiguity.” 

“Perhaps this is better suited to your language.” You handed him the divorce papers, and he froze. “Contracts have always been your strong point, after all.” 

“I’m not signing those. I will not let you leave.” His voice was a period, a finality, and his eyes had grown cold. “You aren’t going anywhere.” 

“Yes, I am,” you said with as much authority as you could pluck up. Then, the corner of your lips lifted as you saw a weapon laid before you that he couldn’t see: a double-edged sword that had once dealt you a thousand cuts. “And you know why you’ll let me go?” 

“Enlighten me.” Jumin’s jaw tightened. 

“Because I’m not Rika, and you’ve realized it.” Your triumphant smile widened, though hot tears welled in your eyes as you remembered every loving touch, every soft word he used to have for you. 

You hadn’t noticed that the tender way he looked at you was reminiscent of the way he looked at Rika, reminiscent of when he spoke of her. Only months after your wedding, when he had grown less reliant on you, did you know his every dismissive word, every small rejection.

And those tiny cuts had bled you out.

“That’s not true. Don’t speak of things you don’t understand,” Jumin sighed. Even his sighs were composed, and it only stirred you further. “I love you, Y/N– I can assure you of that.” 

“Love me?” you snapped, your voice choking up. “You’ve never loved anyone, how would you know if you were in love?”

And he flinched. You felt a sickening sense of victory. 

“What can I do to fix this?”  Jumin’s gaze flickered to the papers in his hand, then up at you, and you realized that a new light had dawned in his eyes. “Please, Y/N, I do know love, and it’s because of you that I do.” 

“You love that I’m like Rika. Y-you’ve never seen me for me,” you said thickly, through tears. “You saw me as someone who comforted you in your time of need, as something who treated you well and understood you. And now that you don’t need comfort, you’re realizing I’m not like her at all.”

“That isn’t true. I do know who you are; I know who I married.”

“Then why is the only the photograph on your office desk of the two of you together? Why do you still speak of her when I’m here? Why do you obsess over her like she’s still in your life?

_Why don’t you love me like you used to?_

“She was dear to me, Y/N. But if that’s the root of these inane accusations, I’ll cut Rika out.” He exhaled, then beckoned for you like he used to do. “Come here now… **Let me hold you, I’ll fix this**.” But you caught the way his voice faltered, and you realized you had snatched onto his loose thread now.

And even though the part of you that loved him –loved all of his flaws and strengths and every in between– told you to stop, you kept pulling. “How can you say that when you haven’t kissed me since our wedding night? How can you fix something that was broken in the first place?”

“Nothing was broken, I’m telling you. You’re being unreasonable.” But his eyes merely followed you as you picked up your suitcase, and he didn’t move a muscle as you made your way to the door. 

“I’m expecting those papers to be signed by the end of the week. Good bye, Jumin.” You turned away and left, cutting your way through the living room to the elevator. Every memory, good or bad, seemed to surface.

Loneliness. Confusion. Hurt. They mingled and blurred. Only once you were in the elevator did you let them overcome you, and only then did you sink to the ground and cry harsh, raspy sobs that tore through your throat.

Because you were good at approximating times and events in the nearby future, and you knew this was coming. You knew it would take Han Jumin approximately three months to realize you were not Rika. But you had hoped your prediction would be proven wrong.

You never were wrong.  

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading !!


End file.
